Amongst the Stars
by Forgetful Silence
Summary: Devi thought her life would be at least slightly normal now. The talking doll went up in flames, and that homicidal maniac hadn't contacted her in months. So, if things were just that much better, why did she get the feeling she was being followed...?


**Dear to Whom Ever it May Concern (that probably means you):**

Don't expect another message like this; this is a once-per-story kind of deal here. Mostly this is just a fair warning to those that are schemish or easily offended by gore or explicit language. Of course, you wouldn't have read JTHM, and coincidently had ended up here if that was the case. You should also take note that I'm easily distracted and will probably write as such. I will proof read to fix this, but some things might sneak through. I listen to music when I write, you see, and I might accidently start typing up lyrics… I'm sure you'll review it up for me, though, now won't you? Please notify me if you find any spelling or grammatical mistakes. I don't want just "Hey, this was awesome" or worse yet "U suk LOL." You know what I mean. Critique me, DAMN IT!

You may notice that I'm keeping the story in its original setting. And by that I also mean the timeline. I don't know if you've noticed, but Johnny had a walkman, and computers are nowhere to be found. We currently live in a time where every other person has an I-Pod and laptop (even if they can't afford it.) Johnny isn't going to have all this technology, especially since he shows a certain dislike for it. And did you see the size of their phones? So let's not expect blackberries and teeny tiny cell phones. Better yet, don't expect any cell phones. I can't stand the damn things…

Thank you for sparing me your precious, precious time. Enjoy.

Or don't.

-Forgetful Silence

PS. I cannot explain the name. And I'm not goth. Or emo. Or any other boxable stereotype. So stop it.

PPS. **BEWARE of a story that has a lot of BIG WORDS (yeah right) and a plot that makes you think. Maybe.**

Amongst the Stars

Chapter 1

Words: 738

_Humans are intelligent creatures- or so they like to think. They think themselves above the very world they live in. They maintain the idea that it is their planet to do with as they will. They convince themselves a certain level of superiority above any other living creature- even those of their own species. For all the brilliance and beauty a human being can maintain, a layer of cruelty and venom will always lurk beneath. Always, no matter how dormant it may be._

Mr. Willard of house number 755 walked the leisurely pace he always did while trying to avoid going home. It wasn't so much that he didn't like his house or family, he just liked to stop and smell the roses. No, I take it back, he really did want to just take the next flight out of the country and change his name so that his money grubbing, window shopping, whore of a wife would just. Stop. NAGGING HIM. But I digress. The importance of Mr. Willard is of no more than to show how unobservant the human race can be. For you see, though the middle aged engineer walked slowly, oh so slowly, to get to his house he never stopped to smell the roses.

Approximately a month ago a small seed had taken root in one the cracks of the sidewalk. Against the laws of natural selection, the seed had very large aspirations. It wanted to grow up to be a two foot tall daisy, just like his parents. So the little seed thought large thoughts, and drank plenty of water. Soon roots were starting to form, and its first leaf had appeared. Carefully and hopefully the leaf had poked to the surface and had demanded attention from the sun. It wasn't long before a second leaf was showing. Then a third. Then a fourth. After weeks of determined growing and hard work a bud formed. The miracle of life was all around Mr. Willard; the happy, wonderful miracle of life and dreams. Unfortunately, Mr. Willard was incapable of seeing it, as it was currently squashed under his heavy, steel-toed, work-regulated, left boot.

Mr. Willard's right boot never touched the ground again. Through unexplainable circumstances, the engineer disappeared that night. He never showed up at his house, and never again was nagged at by his irresponsible wife that never called the cops. As far as the world and everyone in it was concerned, neither Mr. Willard nor the optimistic sproutling had ever existed. And thus everyone was happier.

There was no moon that night as young Todd Casil, of the same road as the Mr. Willard that most conveniently didn't exist, got ready for bed. The only lights in the sky were the partially cloud covered stars and the occasional airplane. Todd, or, as some knew him, Squee, didn't like those nights. The moon had always acted as his makeshift nightlight, as neither of his parents cared enough to protect him from the darkness of his nightmares. Oh, what was that, Shmee? No! Of course they care! Just because they hope he'll choke to death doesn't mean they don't love him.

As I was saying before the bear rudely interrupted me, Squee didn't like the dark. It reminded him of the living monstrosities of the world. Every time he closed his eyes he relived those moments of pedophiles and aliens and knife wielding neighbors. But, sometimes…

Wait, what was that noise?

Squee cautiously opened his eyes to the sight of… nothing. Though nothing suspicious appeared immediately, the little boy knew better than to simply assume. Things like this rarely worked in his favor.

As if on cue the window opened wide. Even in the light of a new moon, Squee was able to see the outline of claws and a cat's Cheshire grin.

"Pssssst..! Squee? Hey Squeegee are you awake?"

But, sometimes, Squee didn't have to close his eyes to relive certain nightmares.

"I hope you don't mind me using the window again, but that tunnel is still filled with corpses. I suppose it takes a little longer than three months for them compose completely, huh?"

Squee tried hard not to think about it. Though he rarely spoke to his scary neighbor, he was more of a listener really; the question was just going to bother him if he didn't at least ask it.

"Are you back from vacation, Mr. Scary Neighbor Man?"

Tune in next time and watch Squee swallow a live lobster whole! And live!

**To be continued…**


End file.
